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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732066">Curdled Milk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhTigridia/pseuds/OhTigridia'>OhTigridia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A3! (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brief mentions of violence you get from Chikage's past, ChikaIta Week 2020, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married Life, Parenthood, Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:27:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,161</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732066</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhTigridia/pseuds/OhTigridia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>His feet are light, and though he is less elegant than April was, he does not make a sound as he follows the landing to her bedroom. Itaru stands, basked in the yellow light of 3am bulbs. His eyes are tired yet fond, as he looks down upon her. His hair falls from his bun, swaying in the air as he breathes, the child in his arms seems to smile now.</p><p>Their adopted daughter, with her pale hair and eyes. She giggles, and turns her glance toward the door frame. She stares curiously into his eyes, laughing with the untainted innocence Chikage never had the privilege of knowing. </p><p>For ChikaIta week. Prompts: Home/Family.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chigasaki Itaru/Utsuki Chikage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>ChikaIta Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Curdled Milk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sorry this is a day late on the prompt!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chikage is without a doubt exhausted as he is awoken by the sound of crying at 3am. Once, it had been an hour Chikage often saw out of insomnia. Now he regularly sees it because of someone else’s demand for his attention.</p><p>“I'll do it.” Itaru says with a sigh. “I was awake anyway.” He recites, slipping his phone into the pocket of his pajama pants, and his feet into his slippers. </p><p>Chikage nods, letting him go with a slight twinge of guilt on his conscience. He feels bad for making Itaru get up in his stead, but sometimes he’s still afraid of his own touch. </p><p>His hands are lethal, bloodied with crimson that can never be washed away. Though he had left that life years ago, it wasn’t as if they were ever completely safe. He has earned his freedom as a man, but can never be unbound from the burdens he carries. In the night, that weight rests heavy in his head. His hands feel so much more calloused and broken in the dark. These hands are not safe for a child, but Itaru’s are kinder, warm like soft peach smooth. </p><p>The sound of crying subsides eventually, and Chikage finds himself straying from their shared bedroom.</p><p>His feet are light, and though he is less elegant than April was, he does not make a sound as he follows the landing to her bedroom. Itaru stands, basked in the yellow light of 3am bulbs. His eyes are tired yet fond, as he looks down upon her. His hair falls from his bun, swaying in the air as he breathes, the child in his arms seems to smile now.</p><p>Their adopted daughter, with her pale hair and eyes. She giggles, and turns her glance toward the door frame. She stares curiously into his eyes, laughing with the untainted innocence Chikage never had the privilege of knowing. </p><p>“Chikage?” Itaru calls as he turns. His smile is tired, the front of his shirt stained with baby tears. “Thought you were going back to sleep?” </p><p>Chikage shakes his head lightly. “I couldn’t.” Is all he wishes to say.</p><p>“I see.” His husband says gently. He is more understanding than he deserves, probably able to feel the tension oozing from him. There have been too many nights like this, though first it had only been the two of them. There was no little life to worry for back then. </p><p>“Uh, can you hold her while I sort out the bottles?” He asks, and Chikage swallows the lump that builds in his throat.</p><p>“...Sure.” He mutters, and Itaru thanks him graciously, lifting the small girl from his own arms to Chikage’s. He leaves the room, and Chikage is left alone with the child who mumbles softly.</p><p>She is tiny, smiling brightly through the thumb in her mouth. She makes childish gurgles, squirming and kicking in Chikage’s arms. In this moment he is afraid to drop her, and he pulls her closer to his chest. </p><p>He’s always liked children. It’s a trait that he picked up from August’s sweet shop. In performing magic and tricks, he’d eventually warmed up to their company when encouraged by August’s enthusiasm. It’s just he’d never thought he’d get the chance to have his own, and now he’s left horrendously undeserving of this happiness laid in his arms.</p><p>He’s held men with these arms. Squeezed hard around their throats until their breathing stopped. How can someone with such cold hands call themselves a father? Itaru is much better for her than he is, and he half wishes for him to come back up those stairs and scoop her away.</p><p>He wonders how August coped with it all? The weight of raising two children in a much more volatile situation than the one April has landed in. <em> He was leagues stronger than you are</em>, Chikage thinks. He wonders how many stories he can tell of that guy when she grows old enough to understand. Not many, most likely. Most of his life he must keep buried for her safety, along with the safety of his husband.</p><p>They have no family gravesite like Itaru does. No photo albums that regular people have. Instead they have a vase of flowers on a cliff too dark for a child to know of, and half of August’s collection of polaroid photos. </p><p>His daughter squirms. She begins to cry again, as if she could understand the suffocating pain carried upon her father’s shoulders. He panics a little, once again feeling totally hopeless as he rocks her in his arms. </p><p>“Ah, you ok?” Itaru asks gently as he appears carrying a bottle of milk. </p><p>Chikage nods, biting his lip a little with anxiety. “She started crying again… You should take her.” He says, but Itaru shakes his head. </p><p>“Uh, she’s just hungry I think?” Itaru replies, pressing the bottle against her lips. Their daughter takes the milk, and Itaru sighs in relief. </p><p>“Yeahh, I thought so. I’m always hungry at 3am too.”</p><p>Chikage holds her tight in his arms again, watching her grow sleepy against him. Her rose eyes begin droop, taken by a sudden milk induced drowsiness. She curls her head into Chikage’s chest, before falling totally into a slumber. </p><p>“GG Chikage. Quest: Get the baby back to sleep has been completed.” Itaru says, before yawning in parenthood exhaustion. “I’m tired as hell.”</p><p>Chikage can only say he agrees, thankful as his husband helps him place their child back into her cot, and then leads him out the room. He feels warm touches as Itaru stokes up his arms, taking note of the way Chikage is trembling. </p><p>“You’re still scared, aren’t you?” Itaru says plainly, reading his husband like an open book. Chikage never liked the feeling of someone knowing all his secrets before, but Itaru has come to know him more intimately than he believed he had the strength to let someone. </p><p>“Me too? I mean I’m hardly cut out for this myself. Most people wouldn’t be proud to let people know their dad is some secret otaku slob.” Itaru laughs sheepishly, and turns his eyes up to meet Chikage’s.</p><p>“That’s not all you are, Itaru.” Chikage assures honestly. “You’re a good dad.”</p><p>Itaru laughs again, slightly dismissive but doesn’t decline the compliment. “You too. You know she’s always giggling around you.” </p><p>Chikage doesn’t feel it. Doesn’t feel entirely stable. He loves his daughter more than anything, but everything domestic usually feels undeserved. </p><p>“Hey.” Itaru utters, reaching his hands out to press them against Chikage’s face. They feel like home. Velvety hands that provide stabilisation. He looks into the eyes of his husband, who leans his forehead against Chikage’s own with a smile.</p><p>“You’re doing fine.” He assures, pressing a warm kiss against Chikage’s lips. It is momentary. A quiet flush in time that is gone too soon, but he feels the tremble of his hands start to steady.</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t have to play this game alone.”</p>
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